Canyon Secret (33 page)

Roy Devers watched David park his pickup in the small pullout in the trees behind the Dew Drop Inn. A big smile came over his face as he watched his target stumble and fall as he walked the seventy-five yards to the back door of the Dew Drop Inn. “This is going to be so easy. I’ll set up and drop him when he comes back to his truck. Drunken bastard.” Devers found a small abandoned road in the trees. He parked his car and gloated over locating such a clear view of his target. The trunk opened with a solid click. He flapped the blanket back. The leather rifle case housed his rifle. From a wooden box he pulled out a small tripod and a box of 30/30 shells. Devers placed the tripod on a stump near the front of his car. He laid down the blanket and assumed the killing position. The scope focused on the front of David’s pickup. “Now I’ll wait. No wind. Nobody around. This will be like taking candy from a baby.”

As Tomas roared through Berne Park on his way to Martin City, the FBI agents passed him going the opposite direction toward Columbia Falls. Agent Hughes commented on the speed of Tomas’ car. “That guy’s really flying. Probably doin’ sixty miles per hour. I wonder if Sednick passed us too. We better find him in Columbia Falls or he won’t see morning.”

Moore agreed and increased his own speed. “He sure isn’t in the Canyon anywhere. We checked every bar and Mabel’s. He has to be back in Columbia Falls. We’ll find him. For his sake I hope so.”

After a quick sweep of the bars in Hungry Horse, Tomas continued up the Canyon to Martin City. He drove by all thirteen bars and slowly searched through the alleys behind each one. From there he roared up Sugar Hill and checked out the area near Mabel’s. No sign of David’s black pickup. And then Tomas remembered. “He’s going to the Dew Drop to see his girlfriend.” The five-mile drive seemed to take forever. His blind anger grew with each passing mile. The red lights of the Dew Drop sign came into view. Tomas slowed and turned into the parking lot. No sign of David’s pickup. He circled around the front of the bar. Still no sign of the black Chevy truck. He impatiently tapped on the steering wheel.

His peripheral vision caught the sight of a man staggering toward the trees. In the trees he spotted David’s pickup. Tomas popped the clutch and fishtailed toward David. Gravel splashed up against a parked car. He slammed on the brakes in front of the Black Chevy pickup and jumped out. His brother-in-law attempted to stop as he neared Tomas. Tomas never said a word; he unleashed a powerful right hand that caught David on the side of his head. His feet stayed glued to the gravel while his dead weight sent him crashing face first toward the ground. The front of his head slammed the front bumper with a deafening thud. His neck snapped back and then in slow motion, his body crumbled to the gravel. His hands hung near his sides as his face met the ground and bounced twice.

Roy Devers rose up from his sitting shooting position. He scratched his head as he attempted to figure out what he just witnessed. What the hell? You just killed my target. Now what do you expect me to do? Devers returned to his sitting position and refocused his scope on the young man kneeling over his victim. The cross hairs lined up perfectly. He moved his index finger closer to the trigger and took a deep breath.

As requested, Mikhail and Hannah sat at a private table on the north wall of the restaurant. A convenient window provided them with a view of Big Mountain, an up and coming ski area for the adventurous of heart. Cloth napkins, real silverware, delicate wine glasses, and very fine china table settings covered the table.

Within minutes a waitress appeared and asked, “What can I get you folks to drink?” Folks again, thought Mikhail.

“Please, I’d like a draft beer, very cold, a glass of water without ice, and coffee, very hot with cream,” answered Hannah.

“All at the same time?” came back a very puzzled waitress. Uh-huh.”

“And you sir, what assortment of beverages would you like?” “Just coffee.”

The waitress left to fill the order and barely shook her head and muttered under her breath, “It takes all kinds.”

He broke with a short laugh, “Do you usually order that many drinks at once?”

“Not usually, but then I usually don’t have a handsome man, warm bed, and wild sex waiting for me after dinner either. Just trying to save time.”

“O.K. then, you’ve got thirty seconds to decide. Here she comes.”

After she shuffled the table decoration, salt, pepper, and the unnecessary wine glasses, the waitress found six places to set down the drinks. She was about to ask if they were ready to order or if they needed more time. “Can I—”

“We’ve decided. Can we order now?” interjected Mikhail before Hannah could even look at the menu. She shook her head yes and reached for her pad and pencil.

“What will it be, then?”

“I’d like grilled shrimp with wild rice,” stated Hannah as she assumed every fancy food establishment had shrimp. “If I get a salad with that, please put bleu cheese dressing on the side. You have bleu cheese, right?”

Mikhail cleared his throat, “The chicken fried steak dinner is fine for me. Same on the salad.”

Hannah and Mikhail struggled to disguise their laughter as the waitress looked at them more oddly than before. At this rate, drinks, dinner, and coffee will be concluded within an hour thought the waitress. She wondered what the tip would be, if any. They didn’t look like the high rollers who frequently ate at the Cadillac.

They made the necessary small talk, appropriately commented on the good food, and anxiously anticipated the evening before them. Mikhail paid the bill and left a generous tip. He needed change but just didn’t want to waste any more time in this environment when he really wanted the one upstairs.

The waitress reappeared and met them on the way out stating the obvious, “I guess you don’t want dessert, huh?” They grinned knowing what was mentally planned for their desserts.

After he returned his tripod and rifle to the trunk of his car, Roy Devers walked over to the motionless body in the trees. A few minutes earlier, he watched the man who hit Sednick drag him into the trees. He saw no point in killing the young man. Sednick probably deserved it. Besides, no fee promised for killing anybody else. Devers checked the man’s pulse and breathing. Accustomed to testing downed men for signs of life, he made a definite decision that the man on the ground was dead. The powerful punch probably knocked him out, but the pickup bumper broke his neck and made sure of the work. Devers calmly walked back to his car and prepared to drive away. What a beautiful night for a drive. In a matter of a few hours, I’ll wait in the restaurant of the Davenport Hotel in Spokane. I’ll enjoy a wonderful breakfast with Old Slick. He turned on the radio and once again cursed the static from the local station.

John Nolan sat at the bar in the Bucket of Blood. He munched on some beer nuts while he listened to the disjointed story his best new drinking buddy told him. Tomas walked the length of the bar and stopped behind Nolan. The image of Tomas in the bar mirror snapped Nolan from his mindless attention to the story about some lost dog. Nolan spun around and detected the apparent torture in Tomas’ whitened face. “What’s wrong, Kid? You look like shit.”

His red and tear-swollen eyes bulged out from his colorless face. “I, I need your help. I, I—”

The sound of a silver dollar slapped on the bar top. “Good night lads. I’m off.” Nolan slipped his arm under the elbow of his godson and they walked out of the bar. Once outside, he poised his face in front of Tomas and asked, “Tell me. What happened?”

“I killed David,” he sobbed and walked around in small circles. He tore his hands through his sweat-soaked hair. “I killed David!” 

“You what?”

Tomas leaned against his father’s Chevy, “I hit him and he fell against the bumper. He’s dead! I murdered him.”

Nolan held out his hand, “Give me the keys, Tommy. He ain’t dead. Most likely he’s just knocked out. Take me to ‘em.”

On the drive back to the Dew Drop Inn, Tomas attempted to explain what happened. His incoherent words showed the cloudiness of his thoughts. Nolan screamed as he drove, “Goddamn it! I told you to stay away from him. You wouldn’t listen would you? I hope you did kill the son of a bitch. Because if you didn’t, I will. I should of done it years ago. Dirty bastard!”

Tomas guided Nolan across the abandoned parking lot into the trees where he laid David’s body. “There. In the trees behind his truck.”

Nolan bent down and checked David for any signs of life. He slowly returned to the car and paused before he spoke. He handed the keys to Tomas and calmly said, “Drive back to the barracks and stay there. I’ll take care of him.”

“But I should tell the police.”

With both hands, Nolan grabbed Tomas firmly by the shirt, “Goddamn it! Do as I tell you! I’ll take care of it. Don’t say nothin’ to nobody! Nobody. Not never. No matter what happens. Nobody, you follow!”

“What, what’ll ya do with him? We gotta call the police! I killed him.”

John Nolan closed his fist and slammed it into Tomas’ chest. “Get in that fuckin’ car and drive back to the barracks. Don’t talk about it. Don’t do nothin’!”

He cupped his hands on the unshaven face of his godson, Tommy. “You do as I tell you. I’ll take care of all of this. Understand?”

Tomas hugged him and walked around to the driver’s side of his father’s car. His shaky fingers fumbled as he stuck the keys into the ignition. “Oh my God, what’ve I done? Oh God, please help me.” The engine killed as he attempted to pull away from David’s pickup. He opened the front door and vomited on the gravel. Tomas restarted the car and drove toward Martin City. His better sense told him to go to the sheriff, but the look in Nolan’s eyes and his words drew him to follow his instructions. He parked the car behind the barracks and walked into his room and sat on the hard chair in the darkness.

"T
hanks for dinner, Mikhail. You can trail me up the stairs, if you want. Have the time of your life. Then I get to do what I want.”

The stirring in his groin revved up again. They quietly entered the room that felt a bit too warm. Hannah lifted the window a few inches. She gestured for Mikhail to join her at the round table even though the chairs were somewhat too little for someone of Mikhail’s size. Hannah reached across the table to secure both of his hands and clung rather tightly. “Mikhail Anzich” she began, “I am not very experienced when it comes to sex. My fourteen-year marriage was pleasant enough but never what I would call exciting. For many years I imagined lovin’ and bein’ loved with a passion as deep as the reservoir you and your crews dammed up. I know it’s possible. My romance novels and movie love stories tell me so.”

Mikhail squirmed in his uncomfortable chair as Hannah continued talking about her sexual experience.

“Now’s the time I would love for us to experiment and fully discover what our bodies are capable of givin’ this time and this place. We’ll love each other with abandon, but please be patient with your own body’s need. Let’s play with each other, enjoy our bodies, and imagine we are explorin’ sex for the first time. Are you game, dear Mikhail?”

“Just tell me what to do, when to do it, and for how long, Hannah.”

She breathed deeply, stood, and made her way over to her satchel. Hannah lifted it almost as easily as Mikhail had and put it on the bed. She reached in and pulled out a sleeveless, white, cotton nightie with pink lace trim. She rummaged a bit more and found a bottle filled with a liquid. Several candles also appeared from the satchel with a decorative box of matches. Hannah draped the nightie over the rocking chair and set the bottle, candles, and matches on the nightstand. Mikhail’s curiosity peeked beyond belief, but he kept his mouth shut even though he wanted to voice his opinion that she could repack the nightgown. He had no idea what the little bottle had in it.

“Mikhail, I’m going to remove my clothes and think maybe you should do the same. The lighting seems pleasant but would you light a couple of the candles please? I like the mood they’ll give to our evenin’ together. I don’t wish to cover myself. I’ve been modest all my life. It’s time to try somethin’ new. When you’re ready, come and join me in bed.”

He quickly put fire to the candles and worked to disguise his desire to rip off his clothes and leap across the room to the bed. He knew his below-the-belt buddy would physically give him away, but apparently Hannah was prepared for this. After he tossed his clothes in the chair where he sat, Mikhail gathered his courage and moved toward Hannah and the inviting bed. There was no way to camouflage his physical excitement. Hannah looked unfazed. She climbed onto the bed, plumped up the pillows, and left an obvious spot for Mikhail to join her. As he laid down next to her, she shifted her weight so that she was sitting Indian-style on his left side. Reaching back to the nightstand, Hannah grabbed the mysterious bottle, removed the lid, and poured several drops of an oil into her cupped, left palm. After she returned the opened bottle to its safe place, she vigorously rubbed her hands together and then gently rubbed the exotic smelling oil into his skin. Mikhail felt his body relax, but he couldn’t close his eyes. What he imagined she would look like paled in comparison to the real thing. In his eyes, she was perfect.

Her hands continued to roam free, and with the silence, beautiful aromas, and sensual calm, Mikhail willed some of the blood to return to his brain. He knew his timing was an important issue on this special evening, and he most of all did not want to disappoint her.

“This is what I want you to do to me so try and pay attention, Mikhail,” Hannah whispered. “I’m not done yet, though.” He had no suitable reply.

Hannah secured another small palm of oil and moved to the foot of the bed. She shared the oil from her left hand with her right and touched his feet gently. Little by little, she moved her entire body up his strong, muscular legs into the insides of his thighs and lingered briefly with her hands. He felt her breasts skim the tops of his legs. Mikhail could no longer keep his eyes open and uttered, “I think I’ve died and gone to heaven.”